


Triboelectric Effect

by visiblemarket



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Clothing Porn, Fluff, M/M, PWP, and feelings, as ever, ish, just sex basically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-19
Updated: 2013-12-19
Packaged: 2018-01-05 02:25:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1088487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/visiblemarket/pseuds/visiblemarket
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>In which certain materials become electrically charged after they come into contact with another, different material through friction.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Triboelectric Effect

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [this prompt](http://avengerkink.livejournal.com/17613.html?thread=41037261#t41037261) on the kink meme: 
> 
> _Clint loves being naked while Coulson is still dressed in suit and tie. The contrast is a huge turn-on for him, and Coulson obliges him as often as possible._

"Hey," Clint says, flopping down on the bed. He's still a little sweaty from his run and the sheets are cool against his bare skin. "I'm back."

Phil throws a hurried "Okay," over his shoulder, too busy getting himself together to turn around. Clint sits up to be able to see him better, and smiles at the way Phil pulls the cuff of his shirt out from under the sleeve of his jacket: Phil's very picky about it, very particular about how he wants it to look, but the way he tugs at it is almost self-conscious and furtive. Clint's never seen him do it outside of their bedroom. 

"Where you headed?" 

"Stark Tower. Pepper and I need to—" Phil turns around, and his mouth shuts. Clint arches his back a little and watches as Phil's adam's apple bobs. Phil's smirking a little, though, as amused as he is turned on. "Hi there," Phil says, finally.

"Hi," Clint says, sliding back down along the bed. "Get over here, already."

"I can't be late." It's a token protest; Phil's already walking over to him and loosening his tie.

"Stark will be," he says, reaching out to grab Phil's tie before he can get it off and dragging him down. Phil sits on the edge of the bed, and leans over him. His hand is flat on Clint's chest and the cuff of his shirt is cool against Clint's skin.

"Which is why I can't."

Clint can't figure out the weird battle of wills Phil has going on with Tony Stark on his best days; today, with Phil looking all buttoned up and competent and smelling slightly of aftershave, he's not even going to try. "You can stand to be on time?" he offers, because Phil is always early to meetings. Phil chews at the corner of his bottom lip in the way that drives Clint crazy, and before Clint can lunge at him, Phil dives in. Clint surges up against him anyway, wrapping one arm around Phil's neck and pushing himself up with the other. 

He slides his hand under Phil's jacket and up his back; his shirt is crisp but already warming from his body heat. Phil cups the back of Clint’s head and turns toward him, till their chests are almost flush, though the position's still a little awkward, given that they're basically hip to hip. Phil mumbles something into his mouth but Clint doesn't quite catch it.

Doesn't make it any easy for him to repeat it, either, sucking on his tongue the minute he can, and Phil makes that fond, frustrated, short-hand sound that has meant _Really, Barton?_ for almost as long as Clint's known him. Clint grins and lets himself be shoved back down onto the mattress, looks up as Phil swings a leg over his waist to straddle him. 

Phil's already breathing hard, like he's been running, but his hair's barely mussed; his tie's slightly undone, but his shirt's still all buttoned up, and his jacket's still on. His legs are bracketing Clint's hips and Clint's can't keep from rubbing up against him, enjoying the friction that comes from his skin against the wool of Phil's pants. He bucks up against Phil a little harder, as if trying to displace him, but it's like trying to throw a tree. Clint takes a deep breath, slides his hands up and down along Phil's thighs.

"Hey," Clint says, laughing as something occurs to him. "What does this remind you of?"

"I don't know," Phil says, shifting a little, just enough that his ass rubs against Clint's very appreciative dick. It feels very, very intentional. "What?"

"First time we met, right?"

Phil chuckles. It's quiet, almost silent, but he can feel it vibrating through Phil's body as he shifts again. "To be fair, you weren't naked the first time we met."

The first time they met, Clint had been bruised, bleeding, spitting mad about having been pinned down by some random asshole in a suit, and even more pissed off at what a turn on it'd been. 

"I coulda been." Phil smiles at that, like he doesn't believe it but is willing to play along. Clint slides his hands up to Phil's shiny black leather belt and starts unfastening it. "All you had to do was ask."

"Oh yeah?" Phil says, going to undo his tie again.

"No, leave it," Clint says, maybe a little too fast. He unzips Phil's fly to distract him, but from the way Phil smirks, the way his eyes sparkle as he unbuttons the first two buttons of his shirt, he doesn't think it works.

Either way, all Phil says is, "Okay," and lets go of his tie. He leans in, hovers over Clint's body for a moment. He strokes back Clint's hair, gets close enough to Clint's mouth that Clint can practically taste him. "Like this?"

"Mmm," he says, stretching back on the bed and sighing in relief as Phil pushes his legs apart and kneels between them, then leans down again and covers Clint's body with his own. 

His suit is not exactly the softest against Clint's skin, but it's perfect: Phil rolls his hips and Clint feels it everywhere, the friction electric and tingling across every inch of skin that's in contact with Phil's body. Phil starts kissing his neck, and Clint runs a hand through Phil's hair, tangling his fingers in it. His other hand sneaks back under Phil's jacket, the silk lining of it cool and comforting against the Clint’s arms and sides as it drapes over them. He presses his palm to the small of Phil's back, where he can feel Phil's muscles shift every time he moves.

Clint's hard, rubbing up against Phil's hip, and amidst the tangle of Phil's briefs, and unzipped fly, and unbuckled belt, he can feel Phil's erection straining at the inside of his thigh. 

"Fuck," he says, and Phil nods, like he's answering a question, and it takes Clint a minute to realize why. He holds in a laugh as he does and spreads his legs a little wider, pulling Phil's head up and guiding their mouths together as he feels Phil reaching for the lube and a condom.

He tries to keep kissing Phil as he's opened up, arches his back to meet the thick and familiar fingers pushing their way inside of him, but Phil draws back a little and Clint's content to just watch him and _feel_ it, to enjoy the short, smooth thrusts. Eventually, Phil pulls his hand away and onto Clint's thigh, and Clint would complain except that he knows what's next, so instead he wraps his leg around Phil's waist and drags him closer. It seems to startle Phil: his hand slips from Clint's thigh onto the sheets, and he huffs. 

"You're not making this any easier," Phil murmurs, and Clint laughs. 

"Wasn't trying to make it easier." He squirms, till he can feel Phil's cock, thick and throbbing hot, against his ass. "Was tryin' to make it…harder."

"Asshole," Phil says, kisses him before Clint can say something awful like _Yeah, there_ , and pushes all the way in. 

Phil fucks him hard and deep, taking his time but not letting Clint off easy. He grabs Clint's hips and hauls him up for a better angle, and Clint clutches at his shirt and tries to pull him in even deeper. 

"Actually," Clint says, breathless and fiddling with one of the buttons of Phil's shirt. "Changed my mind."

Phil's thrusts slow, then stop. "Hm?" 

"Want you on your back." 

Phil, sweet, long-suffering but ever-accommodating Phil, groans and pulls out of him real slow, then rolls over. Clint scrambles after him, kneels over him, and looks down. 

Yeah, this is better: Phil's sprawled underneath him, suit still on but tie askew, shirt mostly buttoned except for at the top and around the middle where Clint been playing with it, pants wide open and partly down his hips. Clint pushes his shirt up a little, braces himself on Phil’s chest with one hand as he guides Phil back into his ass with the other. 

He fucks himself on Phil's cock and Phil thrusts up into him as well, slow and dragging. It kind of throws off his rhythm, actually, not that Clint cares. He can feel the tread of Phil's suit rubbing against his thighs and his balls. His dick drips onto Phil's shirt and Phil grabs his hips and tries to steady his movement. 

"Okay?" Phil says, and Clint nods, rolls his hips a little faster, and watches Phil's face. His eyelashes flutter, and he's letting out sharp, gasping breaths that almost sound pained, and his hair's a mess from where Clint's been pulling at it. Clint wants to kiss him. Wants to kiss him so bad, especially once Phil's eyes get that hazy, unfocused glow to them. "God, look at you," Phil says, slurring a little as he strokes at Clint's stomach and reaches for his cock. Clint wants to laugh, because he may be hot shit (he is), but Phil is _unreal_ like this, red-mouthed and thoroughly debauched in his thousand-dollar suit. "Are you close?" 

Clint nods, because he is, the drag of Phil's fingers over his cock teasing him almost all the way there. 

"Do something for me?"

"Anything," Clint says.

"Turn around?" 

Clint raises his eyebrows in surprise but he does it; Phil's been so accommodating, and he's so close, it probably won't even matter what position they're in. He feels Phil sit up behind him and leans back into his chest automatically, spreads his thighs over Phil's lap. Phil eases back into him and Clint relaxes, because this is good, this might even be better: he can't see Phil but he can feel him, the buttons of Phil's shirt pressing into his back, the soft silk of his tie brushing his skin. Phil's arm is wrapped tightly around his waist and as Clint rides him, Phil strokes his chest, tracing over the old scars and the newer bruises.

His head drops back against Phil's shoulder and Phil kisses the side of his neck, the shell of his ear. Whatever he can reach, and Clint reaches back. Fumbles a bit, but grabs hold of Phil's tie and pulls it over his shoulder, twists it in his grip to make sure he can keep Phil where he wants him. Turns his head to kiss him; it's sloppy and off center but good, because he has to twist a little to do it, and the movement drives Phil's cock even deeper inside of him.

"Fuck," Clint manages, but without pulling his mouth away from Phil's. Phil doesn't stop kissing him either, just slides his hand down to grab Clint's dick, and starts to jack him off again. 

And Clint's torn, because he wants to look down to see his dick sliding in and out of the tight ring of Phil's fingers, but he also wants to fall back against Phil's chest again and close his eyes and ignore everything that isn't Phil fucking into him with short, shallow thrusts. He pushes into Phil's hand and Phil tightens his grip around Clint's waist, both to stabilize him and to hold him still. Clint claws at his forearm, not because he doesn't like being held, but because he _does_. It's being all wrapped up in him like that, feeling his body heat leaching through the nice clothes, the strength of his body straining underneath them—no one else sees that, gets that, from Phil the way Clint does.

Clint comes and Phil strokes him through it, past it, milking him till it’s almost too much but his hips keep making weak, twitching attempt to thrust into Phil’s grip. Finally he can’t anymore, can’t feel so much, and he stops, panting, moaning because Phil’s still hot and thick inside of him. 

"I can—"

"Shh," Phil says, kissing his neck, right below his ear, and Clint just sags against him, goes with it when Phil rolls them over and thrusts into him a couple more times; he's quick about it, but careful, holding Clint's hips up and rubbing his fingers tenderly over Clint's skin where he's going to have bruises for days. Clint sighs, and Phil muffles a sharp gasp against his shoulder and goes tense above him. Then he collapses, pressing Clint into the mattress with all of his weight. Clint likes it, likes being covered, likes the lazy, distracted way Phil's mouth moves against his shoulder. He's saying something, Clint realizes. He tries to focus.

"Am I crushing you?"

Maybe a little, maybe it'll be too much eventually, too warm, and maybe Phil's belt-buckle is currently digging into his back, but for now, Clint's going to ignore all that. 

"You're good." Phil's great. Phil's amazing. Clint really hopes he's not talking out loud. Phil nuzzles against him some more. 

"I'm going to be late." Phil's breathless and his voice is _wrecked_. Clint likes listening to him like that, makes a non-committal _hmmm_ sound in response and hopes he'll keep talking. He does: "I'm going to have to change."

"Don't," Clint manages. 

"I smell like you." _Like sex with you_ , he doesn't say, but Clint knows that's what he means.

He stretches a little; Phil twitches inside of him, and Clint feels him take a steadying breath. "That a bad thing?"

"Only for my concentration." Clint grins at that, pictures Phil sitting quietly in some stuffy meeting and trying not to get distracted by thoughts of Clint riding his cock. 

"Fine," Clint says, and groans as Phil pulls out and off of him. "Do me a favor?" he says, as he rolls over and onto his back. He props himself up on his elbows.

"Sure," Phil says, zipping up his pants again.

"Keep the tie?"

Phil gives him a look, like _you're lucky you're hot_ or possibly _what am I even going to do with you?_ , but then he laughs, and nods. "Okay."

"Cool," Clint says, and drops back onto the bed, entirely satisfied.

**Author's Note:**

> Definition of the triboelectric effect via [wikipedia](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Triboelectric_effect), and special thanks to [lotus0kid](http://lotus0kid.tumblr.com/) and [infiniteeight8](http://infiniteeight8.tumblr.com/) for convincing me to use this title, which I don't hate.


End file.
